


Jerktale 2: The Zombie-en-ing

by O Hakubi (Koah)



Series: The Saga of the Circle of Jerks [2]
Category: City of Heroes
Genre: Cameos, Comedy, Don't Have to Know Canon, Gen, Original Character(s), Someone Else's Character(s), Superheroes, Zombies, Zombies Before They Were Run Into The Ground (Which Is Pretty Ironic All Things Considered)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koah/pseuds/O%20Hakubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The intrepid story of how Paragon City's greatest heroes stopped a coalition of the living dead and saved everyone forever, or at least for a couple hours or so.  Okay, a half hour.  But everything else in this description is true.  Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jerktale 2: The Zombie-en-ing

The first cut was Kesa - from the right side of the neck diagonally down to the left side of the ribcage. The thug didn't even have time to scream as his left arm and part of his torso slid off his body to the floor.

The second was San no do. The top and bottom halves of the man fell to the dirty warehouse floor in separate directions. Spotting a small bit of liver in the bottom half, Bob resolved to work on his form a bit more in the coming weeks.

The third cut was Kami tatewari, otherwise known as decapitation. It was so easy he almost felt ashamed of himself. Almost. Unfortunately a particularly sharp-eared mook heard the body hit the ground and came to investigate.

The fourth cut was Sode suri: He raised his pistol and Bob neatly disarmed him by relieving him of the hand holding it.

The fifth was Suri zuke, a horizontal cut so precise that, as his upper torso hit the ground, his still-beating heart slid out onto the floor.

The sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth cuts were Tabigata, Hizaguchi, Ryo Guruma and Tai tai, otherwise known as cuts through the ankles, knees, abdomen and collarbone. It was completely and totally excessive, but every so often Bob liked to see how many times he could cut a man before his body hit the ground. Six was his current record, though that did involve a particularly large man.

Thus it continued as Bob Bobbins, thief and practitioner of the arts of Cutonomy and Cutology, stealthily made his way through the Family-infested building picking off the mafiosos one by one. When the last of the illegitimate businessmen fell (Ko Kesa, Hiji and Ichi no do - lower right arm, entire left arm, upper torso, in that order) he sauntered over to an open shipping crate and reached in, pulling out an old leather-bound book with an inlaid gold cover. As he was looking at the fruits of his handiwork he spotted the open window just above the crate and a thought crossed his mind.

"...wait a minute. I could've just snuck in through there and taken the book without cutting anyone up." A smirk crossed his face before he burst into gales of laughter. "Ah, that's crazy talk!" Still chuckling, he turned to head back towards the warehouse's main entrance. "I better get this back to whats-his-face before he-"

He would have kept on talking had he not slipped and stumbled on part of someone's small intestines. "Damn it," he muttered, looking at the gory smear on the bottom of his shoe. "This is a waste of good organs. There's probably tons of rich old drunks who'd pay perfectly good bling-bling cash money for these-" He stopped, the gears in his head turning. "Hmmmm..."

* * *

"I need two dozen portable coolers and all the ice you have!"

The clerk was taken aback slightly by the fact that a man in a cape, hood and baggy black ninjitsu outfit had rushed into his store and made such a demand. It wasn't the unusually-dressed part that baffled him - this _was_ Paragon City after all, and his was actually the most normal outfit he'd seen all day - nor was it the sudden demand. Rather, it was that the demand itself was for something so mundane: Usually they came in asking for time-space chronometers, thermal transformers or anti-matter displacement units. But coolers? "Well, I could check in the stockroom to see if we have-"

"THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT!" He pounded the desk for emphasis. "THERE'S VILLAINS OUT THERE AND I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'RE NOT GOING TO CUT THEMSELVES!"

* * *

A gladius-wielding teen in a headband rushed down the hallway into the warehouse break room, skidding to a stop before exclaiming, "Pompey, we've got problems!"

Pompey, a veteran Warrior in his early twenties, looked up from his copy of 'Longinus on the Sublime.' "What is it?"

"We've just heard that the Taffer is headed for this warehouse. What should we do?"

A brief worried expression passed across Pompey's face before he pointed to the other four youths in the room. "You four, stand watch. You, tell the others to spread out and cover the entrances. If you see anything suspicious, tell me at once." The five others quickly departed, and Pompey returned to his reading. "The Taffer..." he muttered to himself. "Hmph. Just another fool in a hood..."

Minutes ticked by without incident, and he steadily grew uneasy from the unnatural silence. "Serge, any sign of capes?"

No reply.

He set his book on the table and reached for his mace as he stood up. "Serge? Antony?" Raising his weapon he carefully stepped down the end of the warehouse hallway, where he pressed himself up against the wall and peered around the corner. The four Warriors he had assigned as guards were mysteriously absent, and in their place was a small plastic cooler with a note taped to it. Still holding his mace at the ready, Pompey crept towards the cooler and leaned in to read the note.

Please deposit one (1) liver  
-Taffer

As the Warrior pondered the meaning of this a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows behind him and silently unsheathed his blade.

* * *

It was a lovely spring day in Perez Park and the CEO of Earth, Dr. Science and Attorney of LAW were out for a stroll, if by "for a stroll" you mean "looking for people to beat up and arrest on charges of standing around in groups looking menacing while wearing similar clothes." When traveling about, however, they noticed two things were amiss: The first and most prominent was that the streets were utterly devoid of any sort of gang activity. The second, slightly less obvious one was that the sides of all the dumpsters in the area were warped and bent outward, as if a bomb went off in them.

"Something's not right," Dr. Science muttered. Before anyone could respond he added, "comparatively, that is."

CEO nodded in agreement. "Come on. We're going to find out who - or what - did this."

* * *

In another part of the park somewhere north of their position was the person responsible for these anomalies: A somewhat thin man, wreathed in flame and dressed in a suit of red, yellow and orange armor that not only embodied but surpassed the worst aspects of 1950s science fiction and retro kitsch. He gazed down the road as he jogged in place, mentally plotting out his path through the assorted mobs of thugs before sprinting into the first group's midst, sucker-punching their leader in the face and running off. This action did not go unnoticed by the leader's followers, as they all drew their weapons and gave chase.

The man continued to weave in and out of groups as he ran down the abandoned road, slapping them, hurling snowballs at the back of their heads and body-checking them and catching them on fire with the small inferno that surrounded his body. Within minutes the man was being chased by dozens if not hundreds of assorted gang members, all setting aside their differences to run after the guy in the odd-looking armor with the intent of beating him senseless. With the horde still in pursuit he rounded the park's corner...

* * *

...and came into view of the three Jerks, who watched the chase with varying degrees of interest and confusion. He hurled a few choice insults before ducking around the side of a building and hopping into a nearby dumpster. One of his followers pulled out a knife and jumped in, followed by another, and another, and so on and so forth until a steady stream of angry miscreants was leaping into the dumpster with blatant disregard for the prominent "maximum capacity" sign on its side.

"I'm pretty sure that violates some law of physics," Dr. Science said.

Suddenly the lid slammed shut and a thin layer of ice formed around the dumpster, sealing the occupants inside. Scraps of cardboard and paper littered around its base browned and then burst into flame as a raging bonfire formed below it. Seconds later the sides creaked as they slowly bulged outward, trembling slightly before the lid was blown off by an explosion, spewing a massive stream of flaming gang members into the air.

"Well, I'm impressed," CEO said. "Let's go see what he's like."

As the trio of vigilantes approached the dumpster the oddly-dressed man jumped out, the last few flames surrounding him flickering briefly before disappearing as he looked at them impassively. "wut u nubs want?" He coughed. "Sorry, local dialect. You want something?"

"Yeah, we do. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Oh, this?" He jerked his head towards the chaos behind him. "Trade secret. Who're you?"

"The CEO of Earth, head of the Circle of Jerks."

"As well as the Earth."

"Yeah, that's sort of implied by the name. You are...?"

The man straightened up, jerking a thumb towards his chest. "The Powerleveler."

"Interesting moniker. How'd you get it?"

"I got it because I'm damned powerful and level hordes of thugs like nobody's business."

CEO nodded. "That's a remarkably pathetic explanation."

"Yeah, I know," Powerleveler said, shrugging. "There was a better one but for some reason I can't remember it at the moment."

Dr. Science coughed into his fist, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like "forthwal."

"Anti-climactic backstory aside," LAW began, "you seem like a pretty effective vigilante. Has anyone asked you to join one of their groups?"

He crossed his arms and snorted derisively. "Yeah, right. _Apparently_ the heroes of the city have something against how I do my job. According to them I'm some sort of twisted hobo who lures people to their fiery demise in dumpsters, shipping crates and blind alleys."

"As opposed to eviscerating them with razor-sharp claws or consuming their souls," Dr. Science added.

"Exactly! So I've basically been black-listed from every group out there for doing their jobs better than they could ever hope to do them."

"So join us."

Powerleveler laughed. "u nubs r jokin." Noticing CEO's deadpan expression, he stopped. "Damn, you're _not_ joking."

"If I wasn't serious about it I wouldn't have asked."

"You sure about that? I'm not very well-liked around here. They downright hate me, as a matter of fact."

"At the very least that's one thing we have in common," LAW said, adjusting her glasses. "Our public relations department has all but given up on improving the organization's image after the debacle involving the Clockwork in Atlas Park."

"It was necessary to destroy uptown Atlas in order to save it," CEO countered.

"Holy shit, that was YOU? That's some great work you did the- wait a minute..." PL turned away, pondering something. "Explosions... _and_ fire..." He pounded his palm with his fist, creating a small cloud of frost. "That's fucking brilliant! Damn, why didn't I think of that?" Turning back towards the other vigilantes he announced, "yeah, sign me up. I gotta see how far I can take this."

* * *

"The Fortunatas have uncovered a disturbing revelation in Paragon City that could pose a threat to our plans," Lord Recluse intoned. "Because of this, I order you and your forces to locate all garbagemen in Grandville and eliminate them by any means required."

Black Scorpion blinked. "Uh, Lord Recluse, sir? That, uh... don't make a whole lot of sense..."

"You dare question ME?" he bellowed. "You have your orders, Black Scorpion, and should I even hear rumors of an empty trash receptacle in this city I'll have your head!"

* * *

In the highest mountains of Tibet reside men and women, their numbers barely reaching the thousands, that have forsaken the ways of the modern world for lives of simplicity, living in harmony with nature. Through years of study and meditation they have managed to unlock the potential for superhuman feats that reside in all of mankind. Very few know of them, fewer still have braved the journey, and only a handful were chosen to study underneath them; to learn the secrets of their power.

One such man had journeyed far and risked much in his quest to learn these secrets, even going so far as to continue his climb through the hazardous snow-filled passes alone when his guides left him, calling his journey a fool's errand. Despite this setback he trudged on through the deep snow, the arctic winds stinging at him even though layers upon layers of clothing.

Through the swirling blizzard before him he spotted the object of his search: An old, seemingly abandoned temple, constructed from dark stone and half-buried by the frozen wastes. He pressed on towards the entrance, entering and continuing down a dark corridor that opened up into a wide, brazier-lit room, the walls covered with rich tapestries. Seated in the middle of the room upon a small cushion was a wizened old woman lost in meditation, cloaked in shimmering blue silk robes. The man slowed to a stop and fell to his knees before her in reverence. "Guru."

The guru slowly opened her eyes and scrutinized the tanned, long-haired man before her. "I know why you have come, Manny Mannerson. You seek to learn how to bend the will of the storms." The howling winds outside the temple abated and Manny slowly turned to see that the raging snowstorm had come to an abrupt and mysterious end. "Very well. You are the first in many years to seek me out, and by doing so you have proven your worth. I will teach you the secrets of my art... now, take off your pants."

"...excuse me?"

* * *

Several long, grueling months later Manny found himself by the guru's bedside, listening to what she assured him would be her final words.

"My time among the living has come to a close," she said in a hoarse whisper, "the fates have ordained this day to be my last."

"Yeah, about that..." Manny began. "Your whole 'dying' thing, I mean. It seems a little premature to-"

"But remember this: After my passing you will be the sole heir to the art..." She went into a brief coughing fit before continuing. "I have taught you all I know," she uttered, gasping. "You are no longer Manny Mannerson, for now I dub you... Male Man."

Manny - or rather, Male - arched an eyebrow. "Is that some sort of joke? I mean-"

"Now go," she continued. "Avenge... my... death..." With that her eyes closed and her head slumped to the side, motionless.

"Uh... guru?" He poked her a couple times. "Guru, you're not fooling anyone. You were walking around just fine earlier today. I'm- ...Guru, stop it. Really. This is embarrassing." No response. "Okay, then, uh..." He stood up, feeling somewhat awkward about the entire situation. "I'll just be going then, I guess..."

As he made his way down the temple's main hallway the snowstorm outside parted before him, and he gave one last look to the guru's prone form before beginning the long trek down the mountain back to civilization. Despite being clad in nothing but maroon speedos, he gave no second thought to braving the cold weather before him.

A few minutes later the guru opened one eye and quickly scanned the room. After ensuring she was alone and that Male was out of sight she sat up and let out a sigh of relief. "Whew, I thought he'd never leave..."

* * *

"...and that's why I'm not wearing any pants, officer."

The Paragon City police officer stared at him in disbelief. "Right, I'm sorry I asked. Just... go get registered already. Geez."

* * *

"Hi, is this the office of the supergroup Paragon Defense One? Yeah, I was looking to join a super group. My powers? I absorb heat to create ice and weather effects. No, no secret identity; I go by Male Man... hello? Hello? Damn it."

* * *

"...Damn, this is the last supergroup on the list... hi, is this the Circle of Jerks? Okay... well, I was looking to join a supergroup and... what?" He glanced down at himself. "No, I'm not wearing pants; it interferes with my powers... I'm hired? Don't you want to know what my powers are? Oh. Well, great!"

* * *

"Well, another day, another mutilation." With that the doctor swung open the door and entered the hospital waiting room. Seated upon one of the couches was a very shaken-up couple in their forties that he presumed to be her parents.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed in a crisp British accent. "You'll be glad to know that your daughter is in stable condition and recovering quickly. That was quite an incident, you know."

"We're quite grateful for what you've done to help her, doctor," the woman exclaimed.

"Oh, no worries, it's what I do. You know, I've been in the practice for twenty-three years and that was the first time I've ever seen anyone come in looking like _that_. I mean, who would have thought that a pool vent could that much damage? My GOD, it was like something out of a Lovecraft novel; if I didn't know any better I'd half expect Pyramid Head to-"

"Y-yes, we know," her husband interrupted, "we were there when it happened. I don't suppose you could take us to her?"

The doctor nodded. "Very well then," he said, opening the waiting room door and ushering them into the hall, "follow me." With that the three of them proceeded down the corridor, the doctor flipping through several pages on his clipboard as he walked. "Strangely enough, it seems that the chemicals in the pool may have had some effect on her system."

"But it was just a little chlorine!"

The doctor waved his hand dismissively. "I know, I know, but we have people coming in all the time developing some metahuman power or another off of things as innocuous as cups of coffee and home appliances. The suicide ward is practically clogged with the people who write warning labels for products. Stress, you know; long, thankless hours trying to warn and protect innocent people from the peril in using cotton swabs improperly. You know, the alcoholism rates for them are _astounding_ -"

"Doctor," the man said, now quite visibly disturbed, "our daughter?"

"Right, right, of course," he replied, pointing to the door. As he placed his hand on the knob he turned back towards the family he cautiously added, "though I must warn you, it may be gruesome."

The door slowly swung open to reveal a girl in her late teens seated upon the bed and clad in a hospital gown, looking for all intents and purposes to be the picture of health. As the door opened she looked up, climbed off of the bed and gave a lackadaisical wave. "Hey mom, hey dad."

"Oh. Well, that wasn't so-"

Suddenly the girl let out a pained cry as she doubled over and clutched her stomach, her skin rippling. "Oh God, it hurts!" Thin shards of bone began poking through her flesh moments before she, for lack of a better term, turned inside-out, creating a sound that could only be described as a combination of duct tape being pulled off of a slab of meat and a man-sized blob of gelatin being sucked into a drainage tube. The hospital gown was torn to bits as the walls and furniture were peppered with flecks of blood and bone shards. Interestingly enough, aside from having experienced the sensation of her insides and outsides swapping places the girl was otherwise unharmed.

The doctor casually wiped his clipboard off on his sleeve as the girl's parents stood there staring at her, thoroughly rattled. "I stand corrected. Well then, I'll let you all get reacquainted. If you need anything else feel free to stop by the information desk. Ta!"

* * *

"...and that's why I'm not wearing any skin, officer."

The police officer wiped some bile from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ugh. God, you're worse than that guy with the speedo. Just... just get out of here."

* * *

"Tell me again why we're in this God-forsaken place."

The "God-forsaken place" in question was Dark Astoria, nexus of spiritual energy and home to all manner of sorcerers, shamans, mages and sundry spiritual entities, all of which harbored some degree of hatred for the inhabitants of Paragon City as well as their protectors. Two of the aforementioned protectors (though some would use the term rather loosely) - Male Man and the Powerleveler - were currently walking down one of the region's deserted streets in search of signs of unlife.

"Well," Male said, "two days ago the security guards and some vigilantes realized that the streets were empty."

He snorted. "So?"

"So they're _never_ empty. They're usually stuffed to the gills with zombies. It's like a George Romero movie around here most of the time."

"o rly?" Powerleveler scanned the horizon - or rather, the fog obscuring it. "Because from where I'm standing it looks more like Superman 64. Rather be in Venice Freak herding than wandering around this place..."

"You've never been here before?"

"Shit no. Waste of my time."

Male arched an eyebrow. "Seriously? You'd think that zombies would burn pretty quick."

"No garbage pickup, and besides, you ever been in a dumpster with thirty burning corpses?"

"Good point. In any case, word on the street is that something's about to happen around here. Something..." He paused for dramatic emphasis. "...EVIL."

"So where is this..." PL paused to mock Male's previous dramatic pause. "...EVIL happening? Or are we supposed to just wander around liek sum fukin noobs in this fog waiting for it to jump out at us?"

"Don't have to. Because we're going to jump out at them first." He pointed down the street. "You see that warehouse? That's where the EVIL is going down. We just go in, apply gratuitous violence and the city is safe for at least another ten minutes or so."

"Did anyone say what we'd be running into?"

"No. But I'm guessing it's the usual. Banished gods, extradimensional dogs that live in angles, things like that."

* * *

The leather bodysuit-clad figure shuffled the papers around on the top of the podium before adjusting the microphone and addressing the rows of assorted undead seated before him. "Good evening, and welcome to the seventh annual fundraiser for the Association for the Promotion of the Zombie Apocalypse's Paragon City division. I'm Eidolon Wormwood, your master of ceremonies for the evening." He scanned the crowd. "We have a very good showing tonight; I think this might be a record. Let's see who we have in attendance. Oh, there's the followers of the Pantheon..."

Several exhumed zombies and shamans stood up and waved, the latter showing a great deal more coordination than the former. One of the totems let out a few bars of tiki music.

"...representatives of the good Doctor Vahzilok..."

The patchwork cadavers let out a collective groan as one of the reapers gave Wormwood a thumbs-up.

"...and a few out-of-towners," he finished, looking towards the two armor-clad skeletons leaning against a stack of crates.

"This was a mistake," Bonesaw Breaker muttered.

"For you, maybe," Pindleskin replied, "but anything that keeps me out of that damn temple and away from a bunch of loot-happy Koreans is worth it."

"Okay, before we begin I'd like to thank the Lucent Eidolon for providing some food for the occasion." One of the leather-clad figures in the back of the warehouse waved as several members of the audience applauded. "Hard to believe that he was able to find some caterers on such short notice."

"The snack platters they had weren't half-bad either!" one of the other eidolons shouted.

Low laughter rolled through the audience as Wormwood forced a short chuckle. "Undead humor, very nice," he deadpanned, noting that the same joke had been made in the six fundraisers prior to this one. "First on the agenda is-"

The MC's intro was cut short by the sound of the warehouse's front door being flung open and he - as well as most of the audience - looked towards it to see two men - one in garish retro-futuristic armor, the other in a speedo - standing in the doorway. The one in the speedo pointed an accusing finger at the assembled masses. "Hold it right thohhhhh _crap_ that's a lot of zombies."

* * *

"So tell me," the Powerleveler said, sprinting down the road alongside Male Man, "do people around here ordinarily leave out important details like ENORMOUS FUCKING ZOMBIE JAMBOREE when they boss people around?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"...and people say _I'm_ a dick." He looked over his shoulder at the massive shambling mob of undead, surgeons, shamans and assorted possessed masks that were currently giving chase. "So what do we do now, wise guy?"

"Keep running until we think of something."

"Brilliant. Isn't there somebody that's supposed to be taking care of these things?"

* * *

Kyle Helsing waved his hand dismissively. "Are you kidding? All that's grey to me."

"HEY YOU!" Positron shouted. "GET OFF MY PODIUM!"

* * *

Suddenly Male pointed down the road to one of the manholes. "Quick, into the sewers!"

"Right, because there's _never_ any zombies in the sewers in this city!"

"There's probably less down there than there is up here. Besides, do you have a better idea?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't involve throwing me to them."

"Oh. No."

"Great, now cover me after I do this."

"Do what?"

Male slid to a stop as he turned around, raising his arms with a look of intense concentration. A dense mass of fog formed along the ground between him and the oncoming horde, quickly condensing into a thin sheet of ice. As the first few undead minions set foot on the frozen ground their traction gave way, sending them tumbling to the ground. Those that followed failed to stop in time and quickly joined them, forming a large, confused mass of flailing limbs.

"Oh."

As Male continued towards the manhole PL stood near the edge of the slick and continued to observe the horde with a casual disinterest. "Well shit," he said to himself. "If I knew he could've done that I would've stayed home. Or gone and done something more worthwhile." He crossed his arms. "Horrible form on grouping them, though. Take at least three or four burn patches to get that job done, not counting the... what's this?"

One of the zombies, fortunate enough to remain standing as it traveled across the ice, shuffled towards Powerleveler. He waved. "y halo thar."

With a throaty groan it swung an arm towards PL, who raised his arm to intercept the blow and ended up setting the zombie's limb on fire in the process. Moaning in pain and confusion it raised its other arm and brought it down towards him again, only to have it catch on fire in a similar fashion. Now finding itself with two flaming limbs, it staggered away from him as the fire quickly spread to the rest of its body. As it neared the ice patch PL shoved it backwards, sending it skidding along the ice into the other zombies and quickly setting the mass ablaze.

"Okay," he heard Male shout from behind him, "it's open, now come on." As PL approached him he added, "Nice job, by the way."

"My new getting hit by zombies technique is unstoppable," PL replied. He hopped into the now-open manhole, with Male climbing down after him, pulling the heavy steel cover back into place. As he dropped down into the depths he pointed upward, creating a thick layer of ice formed around it to prevent further entry.

The sewer system in question was a series of large, poorly-lit catacombs formed of moldy stone and rusted metal pipes, with streams of oddly-colored sewage running throughout. Normally all manner of the unliving would be taking up residence in its depths but for the time they were empty, much to the relief of both Jerks.

"Well, we're safe from imminent death by zombies," PL said. "So wtf do we do now?"

"One of these tunnels probably leads out towards Talos," Male replied, squinting as he peered down the winding passages. "So all we need to do is keep moving."

"Right, right." The fiery aura surrounding PL flared up, providing a bit of illumination for the duo as they began walking down the tunnel. "One thing still bugs me, though."

"What's that?"

"Why in the holy fuck are you running around in your damn underwear?"

"Oh, this? Well, you know the basics of meteorology, right? High and low-pressure zones cause rain, snow, tornadoes, et cetera?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, it turns out that in addition to functioning on a larger scale, manipulating the relative temperatures of the air on a smaller scale is also possible..."

* * *

"...so if I _did_ wear clothing all the excess heat would cause me to spontaneously combust."

"I am so fucking sorry I asked," PL growled. A moment later he stopped short, holding up an arm to stop Male with Male nearly falling backwards to keep from burning himself on it. "Hold it. You hear that?"

Male stepped around his arm and leaned forward, listening intently. "...sounds like people swordfighting."

PL looked at Male. Male looked at PL. Both sprinted down the tunnel towards the battle.

A minute later PL asked, "wait, why are we running _towards_ the fighting?"

"Because zombies don't use swords."

"...oh, well that clears up _everything!_ "

* * *

About a hundred yards from Male Man and PL down the winding sewer tunnels, another pair of vigilantes were engaged in combat. Not with the undead, but with each other: The two had been fighting for quite a while, as evinced by the shuriken and flechettes of bone littering the walls of the chamber, though neither had been able to deal a decisive blow to their foe. They circled one another, a brief period of calm before the fighting erupted anew.

"Your exposed organs... TAUNTING ME..." the Taffer growled, tightening his grip on his katana, " _begging_ to be cut..."

The skinless girl grimaced in pain as two thick bony spines erupted from her back. Reaching behind her she yanked them out and brought them to bear. "It figures that the one freak in black that I run into in this city is more interested in cutting other people than himself," she muttered.

With an enraged cry the Taffer swung his katana down towards the girl in a swift overhead chop as she brought the two bony spines in her hands up to bear, crossing them and catching the blade inches from her face. The bones cracked ominously as the cloaked man leaned in, forcing his blade down towards her body. Suddenly the girl threw herself backwards, shoving her foot into his chest and hurling him across the room towards a cluster of metal pipes.

Twisting around in midair, he planted both feet on a pipe and sprang back towards her. Again, blade clashed with bone as the girl barely managed to deflect the Taffer's attack in time, the tip of the blade passing mere inches from her body. She hurled both spines at him, tearing two holes in his cape but doing little else as he landed and rolled into the shadows. The girl raised her arms in front of her, numerous bony thorns piercing her flesh before she swept both arms outward, peppering the area with spikes just as he dove back into view and lunged at her again, sword at the ready.

Another large spike erupted from her forearm and slid into her hand, and she raised it in an attempt to to divert the incoming attack. The edge of the blade scraped across the spike as she forced the Taffer's katana to the side, piercing the right side her chest just below her collarbone. As the sharpened steel slid into her flesh it dawned on her that, had she reacted a split-second later, she would have surely found it through her heart.

But she got cut anyway, so a fat lot of good that did her.

The Taffer grinned beneath his mask and pulled his katana out as the girl took a shaky step backwards, looking at him in what he thought was anger as she clutched her bleeding shoulder. His grin wavered slightly when he realized that her expression was not one of anger but of annoyance and disappeared entirely when she lowered her hand and he noticed that the wound was rapidly healing, closing up without a trace.

She stared indignantly at him. "For the last time, I'm not. A damn! Zombie!"

"Zombie or not, you're depriving little Timmy of a new liver!"

"That's because I'm still using it!"

"Enough of your selfishness! This ends now!" With a loud cry he raised his sword in preparation for an overhead cut, only to be stopped in mid-swing as a snowball impacted with the side of his head. He stood there for a few seconds, sword still raised over his head as the mass of slush slowly slid down his hood and soaked into his clothes. "Well," he calmly stated, "I wasn't expecting _that_."

The two dueling vigilantes turned toward the source of the snowball to see Male Man and the Powerleveler walking out of a nearby tunnel towards them. "Okay, wut r u nubs doin?" PL demanded.

The girl jerked a thumb towards the Taffer. "This psycho's trying to carve my heart out!"

Taffer pointed to the girl. "She's running around with uncut organs in plain view! It's an abomination!"

"...okay, let me rephrase that: Who are you two, and why the fuck are you in the ass-end of the city sewer system?"

After a moment's hesitation The Taffer sheathed his katana before speaking. "I go by the Taffer, and I was tricked into coming down here."

"You mean you were send into an ambush by some nefarious criminal mastermind bent on your death or capture?" Male asked.

"You're half right."

* * *

"Hi, Maxwell? It's the Taffer. I'm at the sewers, right? But I don't see any Nemesis soldiers..." He peered down the cavernous tunnel. "Just... radioactive dogs with chainsaws for heads. I thought you said Nemesis was behind this."

"This _is_ Nemesis' doing. You're going to have to stop those dogs yourself."

"Are you sure? Don't they have sewer-sweeping squads for this?"

"I thought you understood the situation, but I'll explain it again: Nemesis has agents in every branch and level of the government, including the Paragon City council. Having them deny any sort of funding to such squads would be child's play for them, and since there's no dedicated force to deal with the overrun sewers the city has to rely on heroes to clear them out. Every hero in the sewers is one less that could potentially interfere with Nemesis' plans... and one less job for the hard-working citizens of Paragon City. That's the sort of fiend we're dealing with, Taffer."

"Or you could be a paranoid conspiracy nut."

"You don't know him like I do, Taffer. The man's diabolical. Plans within plans. Now hurry; lives are at stake."

"...and I say that taking a field trip into the sewers is-"

* * *

Maxwell snapped his cellular phone shut and placed it back into his shirt pocket. On the other side of the monument Janet Kellum folded her arms across her chest and turned to face the self-appointed nemesis of Nemesis, smirking. "Did you send another hero down into the Chernobyl Chaindog lair?"

He nodded. "Nemesis forced my hand. That's the sort of fiend we're dealing with, Janet."

She snickered. "You're a total bastard."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

"I swear, if he sends me into a lava bee nest _one more time_ he's going to wake up in a bathtub full of ice."

"The Taffer?" PL mused, snapping his fingers a second later. "Damn, I knew that name was familiar. My aunt got a new kidney thanks to you."

"Really? Wow, small world."

"Okay, so we know who _he_ is," Male said, "now who's the inside-out girl?"

She gave him a a condescending look. "...Inside-Out Girl."

"...oh. So were you tricked into coming down here too?"

"Nah, I got this invitation to some sort of fundraiser. Figured I could get a free meal off of them before this guy jumped me. Now who are you two?"

"I'm Male Man, he's the Powerleveler," Male said, pointing to himself and his companion in turn. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Taffer replied, sounding somewhat less than sincere. Eyeing Male, he looked down briefly before reeling and crying out in disgust, covering his eyes. "DAMN IT, MALE!"

"What?"

"PANTS!" he shouted, pointing.

He glanced down at himself and crossed his arms defiantly. "NO!"

Inside-Out Girl gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah, really. I don't see what the big deal is."

PL massaged his temples. "Right, fine, whatever. Now if we're done with this little circle-jerk can we get back to trying to get the fuck out of here before the horde of zombies finds us?"

"Horde of zombies?" the Taffer and IoG repeated in unison.

"Yes, horde of zombies. We're in the middle of a city full of the undead during a fundraiser for the zombie apocalypse, for fuck's sake."

"What kind of zombies are we talking about?" IoG asked. "The shambling, uncoordinated kind or the fast, ravenous kind?"

"The shambling, uncoordinated kind," Male replied. "But they have people with them."

"How about flying tiki masks?"

"They've got them too."

"Shit."

"Yeah, exactly. So this would be the part where we set aside our differences and band together in an attempt to escape our flesh-eating pursuers."

The Taffer gestured weakly towards Inside-Out Girl. "But... but uncut organs..."

"Taffer, no."

"But-"

Male smacked the Taffer over the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "NO, TAFFER! Bad! No cutting! At least not people we know!"

"So u 2 noobs r helping us whether you like it or not. Now then," PL continued, "do either of you have any ideas as to how to get out of here without getting torn apart?"

The Taffer raised his hand. "I know a route, provided you don't mind mutilation and cancer at the hands of angry dogs."

"Any _good_ ideas?"

Inside-Out Girl raised her hand before pointing down one of the side tunnels. "Came that way after ducking into a manhole around Raimi. Figured it would be a good idea to leave a couple spine marks on the walls to keep track of which direction I came from when I went back, so I did. It'll be easy enough to follow them, and from there it should be a clear run to the gate." Nothing their stunned expressions she asked, "you didn't think of doing anything like that before you came down here, did you?"

The other three vigilantes began speaking simultaneously.

"Well, we were in a hurry to get away from-"

"-with unparalleled skills in escaping-"

"-because this guy dragged me along; don't try to pin a lack of planning on me."

She nodded, not really paying attention. "Right, whatever." Walking away, she rolled her eyes. "Men."

* * *

With a dull scraping sound of metal against metal, the manhole cover slowly rose up and two pairs of eyes peered out of the darkness below in search of any signs of unlife. After making sure the coast was clear Inside-Out Girl and the Powerleveler shoved the cover back and climbed out. A few seconds later they were followed by Male Man and the Taffer, the latter of which did his best to not look up as he scaled the ladder.

As he pulled himself up to street level the Taffer asked, "Male Man, is there a reason as to why you're not wearing any-" He stopped himself in mid-sentence when he noticed PL giving him every conceivable gesture for "don't ask him" behind Male's back. "Actually, never mind."

"What did I tell you?" IoG said, tilting her head down the foggy road. "Clear path."

"Well," Male began, dusting off his hands, "I'm glad that this nightmare is-"

"NO!" PL shouted.

"What? I'm just saying that this nightmare-"

"Don't. Fucking. Say it."

"Why not?"

"Because whenever somebody says it, all hell breaks loose."

"That's just in video games and movies, PL. This is real life."

Inside-Out Girl and the Taffer exchanged confused looks before turning to you and shrugging in unison.

"I don't care. I'm not about to take any risks with-"

"OHTHENIGHTMAREISFINALLYOVER!!"

"...you son of a bitch."

Male laughed. "Come on PL, nothing's going to happen."

"You mean aside from the ground shaking?" IoG asked.

"Yes, aside from that."

"...and the giant zombie?" the Taffer added.

"What giant zombie?"

Out of the distance came a massive, shambling humanoid over thirty feet tall, with rotting, dessicated skin and eyes that burned with a sickly green light. Each step that the creature took caused the earth beneath its feet to tremble, and its very presence seemed to fill the air with a sickening sense of dread. This abomination was none other than Adamastor, bane of Thetis and scourge of Dark Astoria, and it was headed straight for the four vigilantes.

PL reached out and slapped Male upside the head. "u fukin noob."

"I believe," the Taffer interjected, "that this would be a great time to run like hell."

"...and let that thing run loose?" IoG asked.

"Eh, we'll let Male take care of it," PL replied.

"WHAT?!" Male shouted, incredulous.

"Sure, just do that ice patch... thing you did earlier."

"...what, and hope it it falls and breaks its neck?! _You_ kill it!"

"Fuck that, it would take hours! Plus I'd need a freight car to hold it _and_ someone to cut it up first!"

"Not it," IoG and the Taffer said in unison.

"Look," Male said, "we can't stop it on our own. Our best bet is just to get out of here. It's not like a solution to this is just going to fall from the sky."

"I beseech thee, sirrahs! Useth this and frag thine foes!" A very large rocket launcher fell from atop a nearby building into the Powerleveler's grasp, and all four vigilantes looked up to see the departing form of a gun-toting knight in dark armor.

"...or maybe it will."

"...wtf wuz taht nub?" PL demanded.

"Cameo," Inside-Out Girl said simply. "Come on, nuke 'em."

Shouldering the rocket launcher, PL knelt down and took aim at the beast. However, just as he was about to fire Male Man shouted, "hold it!"

PL rolled his eyes. "This better be important..." he sing-songed.

"That thing only has one shot."

"Yeah, and we're going to make it count."

"No, I mean, someone just handed us an explosive device and we're going to waste it on that thing?"

"...damn, you're right," he replied, standing up and slinging it over his shoulder, "we need to hang on to this. Okay guys, Plan B: Run like hell."

As the motley crew engaged in a tactical withdrawal from the area, a bewildered Taffer asked, "are you saying that there's a better time to use high explosives than when you need to stop a giant zombie?"

"Yes," PL stated.

"...okay. But when that time comes it better be really, really good."

* * *

"Have you found them yet?" the Shaman bellowed.

Several of the zombies let out groans that roughly equated to, "no, we have not."

"Keep searching! They could not have gone far!"

"This is a disaster." Eidolon Wormwood scratched his leather-clad head with one hand as he looked over a clipboard with the other. "The schedule is completely shot to heck on this. If we head back now we should be able to salvage some of the evening's events..." He glanced around at the mob surrounding him, which continued to lurch forward down the vacant street. "We've already spent too much time on this as is, and that keynote speaker was due to arrive some time ago..."

Shaking his head, he looked up to see four people - three men and one woman - running towards the mob, only to take flying leaps over their outstretched limbs and land on the other side, continuing their run without pause.

"There they are!" an eidolon shouted. "Get 'em!" With that the combined forces of science gone amok and eldrich sorcery gave chase, leaving their collective organizer behind.

Wormwood looked back down at his clipboard and shrugged, making a few notations. "Okay, I think we can bump the 'find humans and pursue them before consuming their entrails and using what's left for medical experimentation' part up a bit if you'd all like; how does that sound?"

Adamastor let out a loud roar as it stomped past Wormwood.

"Great, although I should call the speaker to let him know we'll be late..."

* * *

Meanwhile, outside the security checkpoint for Dark Astoria, Talos Island side...

"So Jim," one of the officers guarding the checkpoint said to the other, "slow day, huh?"

Jim nodded. "Yyyyyup. Slow day."

"Yup."

It was around this time that the four vigilantes decided to make their egress.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" PL shouted.

"Buh?" Jim asked smartly.

"DOOR! CLOSE! ZOMBIES!"

"Zombies?" One slowly dawning moment of realization later he exclaimed, "zombies!" Turning to the small metal control box beside him, he flipped the cover open and slammed his hand down onto the button labeled "CLOSE." The motors let out a low hum that quickly rose in volume, and the doors shuddered before slowly sliding towards each other.

PL tapped his foot impatiently, looking from the door to the guard - who was currently whistling tunelessly as he continued to lean on the button - back to the door and back to the guard again. "C'mon, c'mon...! At this rate we might as well-" PL eyed the control panel, then did a double-take. Below the prominently-marked "OPEN" and "CLOSE" buttons was a small switch, the lever set to "SLOW." Looking the guard straight in the eye, he deliberately reached past him and flipped the lever over to "FAST," causing the heavy shutters to rapidly accelerate and slam shut with a deafening boom. A second later there was a series of soft thumps, followed by a louder one that caused the doors to shudder from the force of impact.

Jim looked down at the lever with no small degree of wonder. "Well, I'll be. How long has _that_ been there?"

"Well," Male said, dusting himself off, "we crashed a fundraiser, got chased by zombies, got lost in the sewers and got chased by another, larger zombie before barely escaping with our lives... but we did get a rocket launcher out of the deal, so the trip wasn't a total loss."

"...and were it not for your help Cut Man and I probably would've still been fighting down there," Inside-Out Girl added, "so... yeah, I owe you that much."

"I would have won that had I not been interrupted," the Taffer remarked, pointing a finger at IoG.

"Considering that winning would entail you cutting out my internal organs-"

"External," Male corrected her.

"-you'll excuse me if I don't act all broken up about it."

The Taffer "hmph"ed before turning back towards Male and PL. "So about the explosives..."

PL looked at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

"You said that there was a better time to use them than when you needed to stop a giant zombie. I'm just a little curious as to what that could be."

"Well..."

* * *

"O pain, O solitude... how I yearn for the touch of another. One in whom my blackened, tortured soul can find solace. Too many times I have placed my brittle trust in the hands of those I had hoped and cared for, yet all those I meet are but formless reflections of my one true love. My beloved, departed from me that fateful night countless centuries ago, estranged from mine arms when I ceased to be a man and became a monster."

Many of the passers-by paid no heed to the horned young man dressed in black loudly lamenting his fate beneath the Atlas Park statue. Quite frankly, emotionally perturbed individuals in dark clothing had become rather commonplace in the region, enough so that many local businesses were forced to institute restrictions on languishing in emotionally nihilistic pits of misery so as to keep their customers from becoming overly distressed. Such restrictions were not extended to the Park, however, and so this particular person continued his wailing without restraint.

"The beast who sired me, the one rent the wings from mine back, the sanguine ichor from mine wounds staining me still as I wander this purgatory, tormented, nay... _cursed_ with eternal life, a life deprived of her gentle touch, her sweet caresses. A life lived in the shadow of darkness and sin, shunned by the divine like the beast I am, devoid of grace, an endless pit of despair and torment." He raised a trembling hand skyward. "I beseech thee, O Lord! Grant me a sign! Please, impart upon me some sign, so that I may know that I am not truly damned in thine eyes, so that I know that the redemption I seek is not a fool's errand!"

The concussive force of the ensuing explosion hurled him clear across the base of the statue, barely missing Atlas's left leg as he flew headlong into Sunstorm, the two of them continuing to tumble for several yards before landing in one of the reflecting pools.

* * *

"Oh shit," Male Man exclaimed, lowering his pair of binoculars, "that guy hit Sunstorm."

"Good." The Powerleveler lowered the still-smoking launcher, planting a foot on the edge of the apartment's roof as he shaded his eyes and looked into the distance. "Bastard shot down my idea for cleaning up the Hollows. 'Carpet-bombing gang members with squadrons of Novas isn't heroic.'" He scoffed. "waht a lam0r." Taking a step back, he turned towards the Taffer. "Now see, the trick is to wait for a particularly dramatic moment before doing it. It's like the punchline to a joke, only more shit gets fucked up."

The Taffer nodded. "Okay, that was... fairly impressive. But how about something... bigger?"

"Bigger?"

"How much bigger are we talking?" Male asked.

"A _lot_ bigger."

* * *

"The Fortunatas have uncovered a disturbing revelation in Paragon City that could pose a threat to our plans," Lord Recluse intoned. "Because of this, I order you to mobilize all of your available forces as reinforcements for the conflict in Warburg. I want those traitors crushed, the nuclear stockpile secured and the area fortified against any outside intrusion as soon as possible."

"With all due respect, Lord Recluse," Ghost Widow began, "my Black Widows are suited for leadership roles, espionage and assassination, not as mere foot soldiers. Treating them as such is an insult to their abilities. Furthermore, the interference of both Longbow and the Malta Group makes establishing a permanent foothold on the island nearly impossible due to the overwhelming numbers of hostile forces. We both know this, and yet you choose to ignore it. This is a fool's errand, my lord, and I refuse to be a part of it."

Recluse's eyes narrowed beneath his helmet. He had always considered Ghost Widow to be among the most loyal of his followers, and with good reason. Her past loyalty meant little in the face of her current insubordination, however. Fortunately for him, Recluse learned long ago to plan for any and all eventualities. "You are among the more... popular of my followers, are you not, Ghost Widow?"

"If rumors are to be believed, Lord Recluse."

Recluse said nothing, instead picking a plain manilla envelope embossed with the Arachnos logo up from his desk and opening it, pulling out several photographs. "I wonder, then, what some of your... advocates, shall we say, would think of you if certain pastimes of yours came to light." He noted the briefest flicker of surprise cross Ghost Widow's face before continuing. "You say that the dead do not change. Were I to see nothing but these surveillance photos I would have no other recourse but to believe that you perished while attending college."

"...I was drunk, Lord Recluse."

"Yes, I can see that quite clearly." He slid the photographs back into the envelope. "Now then, regarding the Warburg reinforcements..."

"I shall begin preparations at once, Lord Recluse." Bowing at the waist she slowly faded from view, leaving behind a few wisps of ethereal smoke as she disappeared.

* * *

"Good day, Belladonna," Scirocco said, nodding to the woman as she stormed past. "I trust that you enjoyed your vacation in-"

"Cram it, Scirocco," Ghost Widow growled. She continued down the hall, passing through one of the building's technicians and causing him to drop dead on the spot.

Captain Mako leaned out of a nearby doorway. "Hey, what's going on?"

"It would appear," the desert warrior said, eyeing the new corpse, "that Madam Widow had an altercation of sorts with Lord Recluse. I can only imagine what it was about."

Mako let out a low laugh. "Man, and people call _me_ savage..."


End file.
